


Pirates of the Sherlockian

by PandoraButler



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, OC, OOC, Personification of Death, mermaid!watson, originalcharactersincluded, pirate!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-12-23 22:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraButler/pseuds/PandoraButler
Summary: Remember when Mycroft said Sherlock wanted to be a pirate? Well, welcome to the tale of Sherlock the Pirate...not the detective.





	Pirates of the Sherlockian

"So, let me get this straight," an individual stood before the lad. The boy, curly dark hair, a lovable smile, and a brain smarter than most. The stranger, angry, glaring, old and miserable, tapping their foot in hopes for an answer other than the one the lad gave. The lad was tied to a pole; grinning from ear to ear. Did he fear the person before him? No. Did he fear dying? Of course not. He relied on his brain. He relied on his sharp tongue. There was nothing to hold him back from his adventure.

"You expect me to believe that in about three minutes, a ship is going to pull up beside me and get you off to safety?" the male pointed at the lad and then to the ocean. 

"That's right," the lad smiled. 

"And that ship is none other than The Boat of Death?"

"That's right again."

"What do you take me for? A blubbering idiot?! Everyone knows Death doesn't have a _ship_!" no sooner had the stranger said these words, a ship, bigger than anything he'd ever seen, made from the bones of thousands of bodies, appeared off in the distance. The male's knees buckled. His mouth dropped in shock. Death  _did_  have a ship. Death  _did_  have a crew, a crew of the undead. Skeletons. Too many to count. Skeletons for a boat. Skeletons for a crew. The male had no place to escape. He had no place to run. This was the ocean. And, even if he tried, no human, no beast, can escape  _Death_. 

The captain of this boat made no attempts to flee. Even if he  _were_  to command his crew, they wouldn't budge. They knew, just as well as he did, no man could escape Death. The boat got closer and closer. The sea became calmer. The sky became darker. The dark fog that surrounded Death's boat began to surround the ship the lad was on. 

On the edge of the large skeletal ship, stood a reaper. It  _had_  to be a reaper. They held a scythe in one hand and their face was covered by the hood of a cloak. The image of darkness. The wonderful soul collecting mystery. The hand that held the scythe pointed it outwards, to the captain of the opposing vessel. They were clearly not pleased.

The reaper's voice was dark, low, and angry beyond belief, "you there, you slave trader. How dare you take the lives of others into your own hands?! Do you not think I do a good job? Hm? Explain yourself before I take your life!" Death spoke. The lad, currently tied up, stifled a laugh. He was amused in this dangerous situation. Why? Well, we will come to that soon enough.

"I-I'm sorry. Please, spare me! Spare me! You can have my crew...but spare my life! Please!" the old fool begged for his safety. Did he really think that Death cared what he had to say? No. Death had already decided. 

Never wavering, Death continued to point the scythe, "attack!" Death yelled. The skeletons did as they were told and swung from their ropes onto the opposing vessel. They held swords and laughed as they killed, determined to leave no survivors. 

One of the monsters let the lad free, only for him to pat off the imaginary dust and smile at Death, "you're early. I expected you to at  _least_  be three minutes. But you came in less than one! Do you love me that much? Eh, Death?" 

"Shut your trap and get aboard my boat. Or, is this the day, that I finally kill you?" Death glared. 

"Kill me? Ah, but Death, I thought we had a connection," the lad grabbed a rope to swing onto Death's ship. As he swung, he smiled, he laughed, and he turned his attention back to the dying fools, "remember this as the day that you  _almost_  caught the infamous pirate Sherlock Holmes!" 

Sherlock lit a match and threw it onto the boat. He watched as the fire slowly consumed the vessel. Death slapped him on the side of his head and growled, "don't set it on fire! I have valuable skeletons on that boat!" 

"I would hate to remind you, yet again, but, your skeletons can swim, can't they?" Sherlock smirked. Death, having forgotten that this army was  _undead_ , looked to the ground embarrassed. It was a good thing Sherlock couldn't see Death's face, for Death was surely blushing. 

"I hate you so much. You arrogant fool," Death took off the hood, to reveal the face beneath. Death was woman, a pretty one at that, with long wavy hair. However, the downside was, that half of her being was skeletal. Sure, she  _could_  appear human if she wished, but for some reason, she couldn't break the habit of having half&half. It seemed more  _natural_. 

"But, if you hated me, wouldn't you have killed me long ago?" Sherlock's stupid grin never left his face. He simply  _had_  to be annoying at all times. It was like a trademark. Were all humans like this? Death knew they weren't, because she had seen many come and go; however, that didn't keep her from continuing to ask the question. The only reason she hadn't killed Sherlock yet was, well, because he was too damn  _interesting_.

Shaking her head, Death sighed. "Where are we going now?" Death asked. The pirate licked his finger and allowed it to be brushed by the wind. He closed his eyes and listened to the sea, waiting for it to tell him. Death knew that this was all a charade, he was just building up suspense like the idiot he was. Well, the marvelously  _intelligent_  idiot.

"I say we go that way," Sherlock pointed in a general direction.

"'That way' is not a destination, Sheryl," Death rolled her eyes. Even though, there was only one at the moment, due to the fact that half of her was a skeleton.

"Oh, come now Death, where is your sense of adventure?! As long as we get to treasure sometime...it should be fine, no?" Sherlock said.

"You heard the lad!" Death yelled at the top of her lungs, "get ready to sail 'that way'!" she pointed in the same direction as Sherlock.

Turning her attention back to the human, Death sighed once more, "remind me, again, why I haven't killed you yet?"

"Well, because Death ol' pal, 'I'm too damn interesting.' Those were your exact words. Or don't you remember? Should I tell you the tale? Of how we first met? To jog your memory?"

"No, let's not get too carried away. Besides, you always tell it wrong," Death felt the edge of her mouth tilt upward. Was she smiling? How could that be? She was the Grim Reaper herself! How could it be that she was  _smiling_  because of a  _human_? What was the world coming to?

Sadly, that smile would not last long. For, like all humans, their lives must reach an end. Death only hoped, that Sherlock's end was not soon. He had so much to live for. So much adventure yet to come. But, the days were ticking, he couldn't live  _forever_. Death suppressed such thoughts and stared at the never ending sea. Yes, like the sea, Sherlock's story would never end. Through the centuries, Death swore, that  _all_  humans would remember this intelligent pirate. If they didn't, she would make sure to tell the tales herself. Otherwise, what good would she be?


End file.
